


two minutes (hooking)

by rinkinkirs



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 10:41:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17865725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinkinkirs/pseuds/rinkinkirs
Summary: Sometimes when people win they have a lot of feelings. And sex.





	two minutes (hooking)

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this two years ago and chopped off 8000 words and didn't post it until now, which rather says it all.
> 
> as a cautionary note: there's a bunch of alcohol plus some sex plus it's vaguely exhibitionist-y, and nicke appears to be a cis woman for just about no reason.
> 
> this is super fake and not real in any way (except sweden did win worlds in 2017). please don't post this anywhere else.

Everything's in shades of gold and blue.

One minute he's tackling Henke on the ice, the next there's a lot of champagne, and a swimming pool, and Nicke up against the wall as he pushes into her and she sighs loudly. "God, Willy," she says, and fucking _bites_ him. _Hard_.

It shouldn't be sexy, probably, but it makes his hips jerk forward and he feels her grin against his skin; remembers play-fighting with her years ago, trying to hide a boner when she wrestled him to the floor, and he thinks: _Oh. That makes sense._

She pokes him in the side.

"Shut up," he whispers, moves closer, even when he thinks it should be impossible. She feels amazing, and god, knowing she's strong enough to pretty much hold them both up blows his mind, enough that it won't last long.

She's quiet when she comes, biting her lower lip; faint, hitched moans as she shivers against him, surrounding him, her hand brushing his stomach -– just like that, and his hips stutter, arms around her shoulders, feeling a little overwhelmed and a lot desperate. Feels her hum vibrate through her chest into his as she tightens her grip, lets him linger.

Voices pass by the door. The sliver of light flickers through the crack, not even closed all the way – he's not drunk, but he's had enough to not care as much as he probably should.

Her fingers brush through his hair. "Okay?"

He looks at her, at her smile, her flushed skin, wants to stay inside her forever. "I'm amazing. _You're_ amazing."

Nicke laughs and kisses him silly.

"Oh, fuck," a voice says from the door, then: "Hey, uh, guys, there's cameras right outside."

"Go away, Lundqvist."

"Corrupting the younger generation now, Backy?" Lundqvist sounds like he might be amused. He closes the door, anyway, so it's probably fine.

Nicke looks down, flustered. "We should." She makes a vague gesture, and he hitches his hips up before he slips out of her, just to see her react. She makes a short, low noise – and, fuck, he wants to get on his knees for her, but there's a lot going on in the hallway and it would be a bad idea to be caught on camera with his face in her crotch.

Nicke's already put together. Her hands seem steady as she zips his pants and fondles his dick just enough that he kinda wants to do something about it -- then, he gets an impish grin. "Good game," she says, pats him on the shoulder, and turns to leave.

"What the fuck, Nicky," he half-shouts, and her answering laugh is loud even through the heavy sounds of music and drunkenness.

By the time he gathers himself enough to rejoin the moderately more appropriate debauchery of his team, Nicke's talk-shouting to someone, so he finds someone to toast with – but she hovers at the edge of his vision, smiling and shouting. He wants to move up behind her and rub his dick against her ass, wants everyone to see her wanting him, but he's a long way from drunk enough to make an ass of himself – mostly because he's attempting to pace himself for a repeat.

God, he hopes there's a repeat.

And then she's there, and he's drunker than he thought because he leans on her shoulder and says, "Hey, Nicke, Nicke, you should sit on my face." He's definitely too loud; there's a lot of someones laughing at him, and so is Nicke, but she lets him hang over her back until he seems steady enough to bring her more alcohol, so he's counting it as a win.

There's a quieter hallway at some point, when they're heading over to the hotel. Nicke grabs his face and kisses him, hard, there and gone, and hands him a water bottle. “Always taking care of me,” he says, and she makes a face.

"You should get me some champagne, take care of me for a change."

He laughs, throws a half-mocking salute and spills water all over himself. "Yes sir."

She swats at his ass –- it sends a jolt through him, and that's definitely something to look into –- and he sneaks a bottle of champagne onto the bus. He doesn't know why he tries to be covert about it, since the only thing it does is make him look stupid, but Nicke grins and trades sips with him, so. Totally worth it.

When it's late, when the cameras are mostly gone but their teammates definitely aren't, she pulls him aside and crowds him against the wall. They're the same height, so it shouldn't work, but he's into it. A lot.

"You should come to my room," she says. Her eyes flicker down, back up. "If you want."

He touches her face, the soft hairs at her neck. "I want."

And she smiles. God, he's in trouble. In fact, Nicke's smile is so dangerous they have to take a detour to fuck in the bathroom. He uses his tongue and it's probably sloppy but she's a lot louder this time. Willy's pretty sure the entire team knows by the end of it.

(Gabbe and Eddie cheer when they return. Henke does not.

"You couldn't just go upstairs?" He looks like he's going for serious, but can't quite manage.

Joel shakes his head at them, but overall there's a distinct lack of surprise. Willy thinks back on bus trips, dinners, joking around in their downtime –– and it's probably not that surprising. )

* * *

They fall asleep some time after 5 am. His eyes feel gritty when he wakes up, too early, too late. His head is unhappy about the champagne, but it's not too bad if he stays in bed with his eyes closed.

Nicke shifts next to him. She's quiet for a few seconds, like she might be looking at him. Her arm curls around his waist, tugs him closer. He makes a faint noise of complaint when it jostles his head, but leans into her warmth.

She sighs – a heavy, long exhale. "We should talk about this."

"Too hungover," Willy says. "Can we agree to be happy and sleep some more?"

Nicke hums agreeably into his hair, and adds; "But talk later."

Willy mutters something about adulthood being dumb and drifts for a while.

There's a soft touch to his cheek – first one, then the other, before it pushes his hair behind his ear. He opens his eyes. Nicke is looking intently at him, touching him with light fingers. It kind of tickles, kind of turns him on. He grabs at her side and tugs, wants her to cover him, hold him down, keep staring him down like she owns his soul, but she lifts up and puts a hand on his chest, solid and heavy.

"Talk," she says. "We’re not fucking this up."

"I wanna fuck you up," he mutters half-heartedly.

But.

He sighs, runs a hand through his hair. "Yeah, you're right, you're right." He pushes his pillow up to lean against the headboard. The only sign Nicke is nervous is how she twists her hands in her lap. "Hey," he says. "So. Like. I wouldn't risk our friendship for a fuck. Seems like you might have the same idea."

Nicke chooses this time to look unflappable, naturally. "Pretty sure of yourself, there."

He grins, crawls over to straddle her lap. "Pretty sure of _you_ ," he says. Pauses for a few long moments to stare into her eyes in a way that would be embarrassing if she wasn't staring right back. "I care about you, a lot," he says. Breathes in, out, shaky.

Nicke pokes him in the stomach. "I guess you're okay."

He leans in to bump their noses together. "That's what I get, _you're okay_?"

"Yes," Nicke says. She bites her lip, but her mouth twists up anyway. "I guess I'd sleep with you if you were the last person on earth. For the sake of humanity."

He sighs and drapes his full weight over her. Her hand comes up to caress his hair.

"You know I care, too," she says.

"I know." His thumb strokes at her side, reassuring.

"I don't want to fuck up either. We'll figure it out."

The last strings of tension dissolve in his chest. "Yeah."


End file.
